


Happily Ever After

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Darillium (Doctor Who), F/M, Living Together, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Relationship Issues, Singing Towers of Darillium, Trust Issues, there's a questionmark at the end of that title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: They would be happy together. On Darillium. The Doctor was determined.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Have some feels on when happily ever after isn't quite as easy as the brochure made it sound. Probably a bit of meta masquerading as a fic. I still have lots of Darillium feels, OK?!
> 
> Written: 6/6/17 – 5/24/20

They would be happy together. On Darillium. The Doctor was determined.

He fixes on his best grin and jokes that they're retired now, and pretends that River's answering smile doesn’t look just as forced at the edges as his.

They read each other's diaries first. It's the Doctor's idea. The only way he can think to show her that he's always loved her more completely than he had ever imagined possible.

There are no spoilers in his - he didn't have a diary when River died, so her death is - mercifully - not in them. He never could bear to commit it to paper afterwards - too wary of setting the future-past in stone.

(He thinks it breaks both their hearts.)

He realizes then that they've never talked - not really, not in all the little ways that couples do when they spend their lives together. The first few times they try it - properly talking - it goes horribly, and they end up shouting and slamming doors.

(It takes them almost six months just to catch up on all the conversations they never had.)

They've never really lived together, either. Not properly. The TARDIS never required tidying up, and they certainly never had to negotiate who cooked or did the washing up. There was so much space in the TARDIS that it never mattered whose half of the wardrobe was whose or how to arrange their toiletries in the cupboards by the sink.

(Not that they ever spent more than a day or two alone together in the TARDIS between adventures. Not that they ever really _stayed_.)

It's obvious, then, why River doubted him - doubted their marriage - they've never really _been_ married before, not in all the little ways that count.

The Doctor is determined to make this count.

Never mind that they've never spent even a linear week together before.

(Never mind that he's rarely spent more than a few linear weeks in any one place ever - and certainly never on purpose. He wants this time with River - more than anything - and never mind that little voice that whispers that twenty-four years is a long time to stay in one place.)

He finds them a normally sized house in a normal little neighborhood in a normal town on this planet that is anything but normal.

River arches an eyebrow. "It's certainly a change from bigger on the inside."

What she means is: there's nowhere to run.

"Yes," he agrees. _No running_.

Which turns out to be easier in theory than in practice. They're not used to so much togetherness and they run just as much before, if with less physical distance. They retreat to opposite ends of the bed or sofa or house, silent and brooding.

One of them always breaks eventually, of course - usually him. He cajoles River with a new invention or ridiculous plan or some story he's almost certain he's not told her. "Did I ever tell you about the time..."

Of course, he inevitably has told her already, somewhere in their long and complicated back-to-front lives. It hardly matters. River laughs or rolls her eyes or tells him an even more outrageous story, and then she drags him by the lapels to the nearest vaguely flat surface and talking is the last thing on his mind.

The make-up sex is always spectacular - the bedroom never has been their problem - but he can't seem to find the words to fix them when they're wide awake after and River refuses to curl into his arms.

...

There are quiet moments too, of course. Moments where he can feel time ticking, slowly, _slowly_ , across his skin like an itch that he can't quite scratch. All the Tuesdays and Sundays and Thursday afternoons, crawling by, one at a time, all in the same order.

Time, so much time that his head feels swollen with it. And yet each day ticks down to the end of their time together, inexorable.

He wants to savor every last millisecond. Time with River, once so precious, and now he's glutted with it. (They would be happy together. They _would_ be happy together. They _would_ -)

"You'll get bored," River warns, casual and too matter-of-fact.

She's leaning against the doorframe, her eyes not quite meeting his as she watches him disassemble kitchen appliances, which she normally chides him for (even though he's only making them more efficient - and only occasionally slightly explosive).

The Doctor pauses at her words, hands stilling and heart willing River to look at him. "Never," he swears.

The trouble is, he does get bored. He's never stood still this long without some plan to work on or mystery to solve. The only mystery left is River, and all he wants to do is _fix them_ , but he's never had less of an idea how.

They promise _no more spoilers_ , and yet Rule One still holds.

...

Desperate, determined (they _would_ be happy), the Doctor foreswears Rule One.

River arches an eyebrow but makes the promise: _tell the truth_.

Except they're both fundamentally liars, and it's not as easily shed as a little promise - after all, they could've both been lying. And what's another promise broken between them against lifetimes of them?

It occurs to the Doctor later that very few of the words they've ever exchanged have been the complete truth, far outnumbered by secrets and lies. Neither are easy habits to break. _Spoilers_.

And, of course, he still holds the biggest spoiler of all.

"Liar," River hisses, no Rule One to soften the accusation.

Because the ugly truth is that River believes he's a liar, even when he's not.

"No." His teeth clench around the denial, jaw stiff.

River turns away from him, eyes flashing fire and ice. "That's worse."

"Is there anything left of us?" He begs, thrown asunder by the coldness in River's eyes.

"Together or as individuals?"

"Both."

River sighs, ducking her eyes to hide in the one way they've left themselves here. "I don't know." There's an uncharacteristic waver to the hushed admission.

Because, without spoilers and lies and running through time and space, maybe there's nothing left of them locked on this hunk of rock, one little planet spinning in the dark.

The darkness matches their moods. Heavy and oppressive, swallowing them whole. River's skin is ghostly in the light of the double moons, and the Doctor misses seeing sunshine suffuse her face. Misses the light that used to dance in her eyes alongside her secrets.

River's smiles now are wan like the light, her anger fathomless and consuming like the dark.

...

"Go on then. Get it out."

River blinks up at him without meeting his eyes, her indifference worse than her anger. "What?"

"Whatever you're cross with me about. Everything you've been cross with me about."

River arches one eyebrow in disbelief. "You want to have a row?"

The Doctor huffs, getting up to pace, to chase out the anxious energy that is screaming at him that this is all _wrong_. "I want you to tell me what it is that I've done so I can fix it!"

Which is clearly the exact wrong thing to say because River's face freezes on something that isn't a snarl but isn't not. "You haven't done anything."

There's no affect to her voice - none of the spark and fire that makes her River. This place has leached it out of her in the dark - he's leached it out of her.

"Then what is it that I've not done?"

River shrugs and says nothing, which is as much of an answer as anything.

The Doctor shoves his hands through his hair and tries to keep his voice from shaking. "I'm here, aren’t I? What do you want from me?"

There's a flash of something dark across her expression. "I want you to be honest."

He growls, taking a step towards her but holding his hands, clenched, at his sides. "I am!"

She doesn't flinch, face set in a hard mask. "No, you're not."

They're close enough that he can feel her even breaths against his skin. "Then tell me, wife. Tell me what I'm lying about."

River shrugs, as though it's obvious. As though it's inconsequential. "That you want to be here."

He sputters. "Of course I want to be here."

"No, you don't. You just feel obligated. There's a difference."

He reels backwards, his stomach doing a freefall even as anger pounds against his skull and lashes his tongue. "Obligated? How can you - you read my diary!"

"Yes, I did. It was very fanciful."

It burns like her slap. The Doctor lets his eyes fall shut with a wince, biting back the tide of words that long to spill like darts from his lips. "It was true."

River laughs without humor, the sound grating and mocking. "You can't even meet my eyes when you say that, Doctor. Spare me."

His eyes snap open to find hers sparking with fire at last. Her fists are clenched at her sides and she looks like she wants to hit him or flee. Only there's nowhere to run anymore. Nowhere else he'd rather be.

The Doctor takes a measured breath and steps towards River, palms open and out. "I want to be here."

Her expression wavers but she holds her ground. "Stop it."

Another step. She doesn't run.

"I want to be here."

"Doctor-"

He cuts off whatever barb is about to fall from her mouth. Takes another step. "River. I _want_ to be here."

No more space between them. He brings his hand up to brush away the wetness gathering at River's eyes. "I want to be _here_ ," he says again, tilting her chin up until he can seal the words against her lips with a kiss. "With you."

River makes a sound that might be a protest, her entire body trembling in his arms, and then the dam cracks open, and River is clinging to him, her mouth harsh and demanding against his even as her tears soak his cheeks.

And there she is, at last, _River Song_ in his arms, all fire and passion and so much _feeling_ that he sometimes thinks he could drown in the depths of her.

Just this once, he lets himself. Lets himself drop millennia of carefully crafted walls and rules and clever tricks. Lets himself reach for River with fingertips and hearts that tremble with how much he needs her. How desperately he's always needed her.

The Doctor pours all that feeling - all the _love_ that he's never quite found the right words to voice - into their embrace. Lets his mind open as much as he can (never all of it, never that, especially not to River. _Spoilers._ ) and aches at the answering hum of her own, golden and brilliant and so full of life.

It's enough.

It has to be.

  
The Doctor was determined.

They would be happy.


End file.
